


What a catch

by Sonamae



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Imprisonment, M/M, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Torture, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-20 23:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14271963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonamae/pseuds/Sonamae
Summary: Blurr and his team are having a hard time coping even hundreds of years after the Longarm incident.  How they deal with things isn't really healthy, especially after they capture their worst nightmare.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: THIS WORK IS UNEDITED. PLEASE FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT MY MISTAKES BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE A BETA.
> 
> Okay so I wrote the beginning of this back in... 2016? I proceeded to throw it in the "I've utterly forgotten about this project" folder and left it to rot. Found it yesterday and finished it, decided someone might as well enjoy it so why not you guys.  
> There will be reoccurring OC's after the Intro chapter. ( This fic isn't going to be that long though ) They are my clumsy children so be gentle with them. This is mostly a character study/me practicing the hardest to work with mech ever.  
> Shockwave.

The day had been filled with exceedingly boring paperwork and Blurr was _itching_ to be done with it. _Yes_ , he was an Intelligence Agent working with some of the highest code access that you could possibly get, but _no_ , that didn’t mean he got off easy with the red tape. Honestly it was the opposite, he might actually have been struggling _more_ under all the datapads. Every line that required his signature or serial number had to be cross examined and put side by side with the regulations book to make sure it wasn’t a proposal from a ‘Decepticon spy.’ Like any of those could get past him and is crew.

He’d kill for a mission right about now. Anything from a serious stakeout to a simple ticket citation. Unicron below, he’d even take the drunk and disorderly. _Anything_ so he didn’t have to stare at these datapads.

Across the hall, the door to Longarm Prime’s office clicked open, his hand distracted as he fumbled with the knob. Blurr glanced up only momentarily, a surge of sympathy for the other bot. Door handles made _no_ sense, but as a quick replacement they… soft of worked. 

At least until the new sensor door got in, and by the Allspark was that a funny story to remember.

Poor Misfire, he’d never live _that_ botched assassination attempt down. No matter how understanding Longarm had been, everyone was going to bring that mishap up for _millennia._ Blurr sighed and squinted at some of the fine print on his current work screen.

‘Reoccurring Error or Failure to file subsection E72AB, clause 27T6, in accordance with the Tyrest Appeal Law in Chapter 213, subsection 42B-’

“Agent Blurr, may I see you in my office?” Longarm Prime asked as he finally looked up from his datapad. Blurr dropped his work in a nano-klik and stood up far too quckly from his desk, the chair clattering to the floor. Longarm gave a short chuckle, cutting himself off as the rest of the office snickered. He gave them all reprimanding looks and waited politely for Blurr to right his chair. 

Hotwire beat him to it as he got up. “Go on.” He nudged Blurr with the back of his hand. Rotary smirked from his desk and wiggled his eyebrows ridges at Blurr while their commander was distracted. Blurr tried not to swat at him on the way.

Longarm kept the door open with a hand resting at the top, and Blurr found it easy enough to run through under his arm.

The movement was a practice he’d grown accustomed to over the cycles, having spent a couple of them getting used to weaving in and out of the office and around his co-workers. Still, none of them were as comfortable with his speed as Longarm seemed to be. In fact, Longarm didn’t even look up from his pad as Blurr ran passed him, he simply ticked a box and walked into the office. The door creaked closed behind them, Blurr already standing at attention in front of Longarm’s desk and waiting for the ‘crash thump’ of displaced air as it connected.

Longarm said nothing at first, simply kept his optics focused on his pad as he made a slow meander back to his desk. He held one hand out, patting the air until his servo slapped against his chair back, then he eased himself down and pried his optics away from the pad.

“Oh, where are my manners? The chair is where it always is, feel free to sit.” He smiled and Blurr had to fight not to chuckle.

“Yes sir.” He hurried to the closet and sidestepped the hastily put away pads and office equipment. Longarm was a wonderful boss, really, but sometimes Blurr thought he didn’t really understand the concept of _‘No thank you that’s too much work.’_ He was constantly _doing_ something, a never ending workaholic.

Shaking his head, Blurr reached in and grabbed the fold out chair before his processor went off on a tangent. When he set it down, Longarm was fiddling with a holo-screen and squinting at the words. He seemed frustrated. Blurr watched as he closed one eye, then switched to the other and huffed.

“I can’t read this receptionists handwriting.” Longarm grumbled, voice lower and more frustrated than normal. “It’s avian scratch. Can you…?” he turned the screen and Blurr couldn’t help but smile.

“Honestly sir there’s no shame in ordering optic enhancers at your age.” Blurr teased before leaning in to read the note.

“Quite rude of you.” Longarm muttered. “I’m not much older than you.” The Prime shook his helm and reached out to tap the holo-screen. Blurr quickly flicked his optics back and forth between the screen and his commander and _smirked._

“From what I can tell,” he let the last word drag out slightly, “it says Code Terra Earth, class restriction beta Y, this word I can’t really decipher, but after that it says former Prime, Optimus.” He leaned back and beamed happily.

Longarm Prime was silent. When Blurr opened his optics his commander was frowning and looking at his folded over fingers. He seemed sad, maybe a bit disappointed.

“… Sir?” Blurr’s voice seemed to snap him out of his revere. 

Longarm tilted his head. “I apologize, Agent, those are just... orders I never wanted to receive.” He let out a heavy sigh and fiddled with the mess of datapads on his desk. “This means I have to send one of my trusted to Earth, it means I have to send them somewhere I can’t reach.” Blurr saw the signs of sadness and regret all over his commander and reached out before he could think better of it.

“It’s not so bad, Sir. You know all of us would do anything to return to you.” He lifted one side of his mouth in a smile and Longarm laughed, loud and boisterous before he squeezed Blurr’s hand. They shared a moment before Longarm released his servo and stood. He walked toward the dry erase board he had tucked snuggly in the corner of his office and frowned at it.

He seemed resigned as he picked up a pen and uncapped it, then began scribbling names and drawing a circle in the center. He tapped the board and looked back at Blurr, nodding to the position next to him.

“I called you in here for help, I thought that the transmission was a mission to Earth, but I wanted a second opinion.” He explained. “These are the candidates I’m thinking of sending on this mission. Now this is top secret and I trust you explicitly to keep it under wraps. You and your team have never failed me.” Longarm said as Blurr stood up. He quickly made an ‘X’ marking over his spark and came to stand at his commanders side, looking at the names on the board.

After a few kliks he frowned. “My name isn’t on the board, Sir.” He commented. Longarm nodded, stiff as he kept his optics trained on the names.

“I wouldn’t benefit from loosing you here, I would only suffer.” His voice was almost cold as he said it and Blurr shivered. There was that thin line again, the one that popped up sometimes when they were together. 

Were they flirting, were they just really good friends? Was Longarm _into_ him? Was _he_ into Longarm? Should they just frag one out and get it over with?

“I would be best suited for this job.” Blurr admitted. “You know I’m the fastest bot on your team.” Longarm snorted.

“And the quietest?”

“In terms of stealth.” Blurr insisted. “Next to Quickstep, who is a dancer and _not_ a special agent even though I think he should be. I’m the lightest on my feet on all of Cybertron next to him. I’m a great pick for this mission Sir, _please_ trust me.” Longarm glanced at Blurr and then looked back at the board. His optics dimmed in thought, his shoulders tense like support beams. Blurr reached out and slipped his hand into Longarm’s, watching him flinch in surprise but never move away. “I’ll be okay.” He whispered reassuringly.

Longarm hesitated. “I… won’t be there to protect you. Neither will our team.” The way he said it made Blurr’s spark flutter. “Without you, I will no longer have a leading commander. My agents will be a fumbling mess, who do you think will lead them in the field if you don’t?” Blurr couldn’t help but chuckle.

“They’ll pick a leader if you don’t assign them one. They aren’t sparklets, they’re full grown mecha. They can take care of themselves without my help for a few… however long I’ll be on Earth.” He smiled and squeezed Longarm’s hand again.

Longarm squeezed back, then looked away from the board. There was a flicker of light in the jewel on his forehead, a sign Blurr had learned was a tell tale spark of deep emotion.

“… I don’t want you to go. Things will change too much if you leave.” It was a last ditch effort, but Blurr had made up his mind. Even if he wanted to buckle under Longarm’s gaze, he knew he couldn’t. He was far stronger than that, far tougher. Even if he didn’t want to be.

Taking a chance, he slowly lifted Longarm’s hand in his own and pressed his lips to the back of Longarm’s wrist. “Trust me as much as I trust you.” Blurr whispered. Longarm swallowed and pulled Blurr into an unexpected hug.

“You shouldn’t put so much trust in me, Blurr. One of these days I’m going to let you down. You’re going to hate me forever after that, then what will I do? One day I’m going to hurt you in irreparable ways for the sake of this job, I just know it.” Longarm let go of a deprecated laugh as he pulled away, turning toward his desk. Blurr caught the warble in his voice, the way the tones shifted and changed.

Sometimes odd things like that happened to Longarm, it was as if he wasn’t one to handle himself, almost like emotions were foreign to him and he was surprised every time he had one. If you stuck around the commander long enough you would recognize his ticks, each little click that showed off his surprise or confusion. He was generally so enthusiastic that many thought him fake, but Blurr always saw the flickers of emotions or the forced sadness of certain smiles or laughs.

Longarm was peculiar, but Blurr liked that about him.

“Right,” Longarm pulled up a few files onto the whiteboard via datapad and smiled, “if you’re going to Earth you’ll need a temporary altmode and a holo avatar to ‘Drive’ you.” He dragged the selected files and images onto the board and hurried over to wipe it clean.

Blurr watched as species after species of human flicked across screen. They all seemed the same to him, short helms, flat chests, bulky yet squishy frames.

Suddenly something completely different flicked on screen and he scrambled forward. “Wait!” Longarm looked up in surprise. “Go back.” His commander nodded and flipped back through the clips until Blurr pointed. “That one.”

Longarm nodded. “The female of the species, I hear they’re very strong. My holo avatar is also female, though not this… skinny by any means, and her hair isn’t blue.” He quickly pulled up the specs of the avatar and held out a small plug.

Blurr took it and hesitated. Plugging things into his neck always made him uncomfortable.

“I didn’t know you’d traveled to Earth, Sir.” Blurr grimaced at the plug and quickly reached up to the back of his neck before sliding the cable in. The whole thing made him give a full body shudder and as soon as the information settled he yanked the cord out and pushed it away.

Longarm only looked up for a second as he continued to type away at his desktop. “A little while ago on a recon mission, I took a small sabbatical if you recall?”

“Oh, about one hundred, one hundred and fifty stellar cycles ago?” Blurr asked as he reached out and tapped the top of Longarm’s computer. “Can I see it? Your avatar I mean?” He waited until Longarm looked up and flashed him a smile. Longatm nodded over at the dry erase board and an avatar popped up. Blurr could have sworn Longarm was flushing under the collar in embarrassment.

The human was labeled female, though of a much bigger build than Blurr’s recently picked avatar. She had the massive unruly curls that were similar to Blurr’s avatar, though they were a dark black compared to Blurr’s vibrant cyan. She was also wearing a dress that had a tag line next to it. Blurr, curious as always, walked toward it and flicked open the tab.

_‘Flapper dress. 1927. Possibly outdated,_ Fashion _is an ever flowing hit apparently.’_

The small snarky comment in Longarm’s twisty handwriting made him chuckle and he tabbed it down to look back at his commander. “Does this mean you also have an Earth altmode, or do you only have a Cybertronian one?” Longarm shrugged his shoulders and finally moved away from the keyboard. He sidled next to Blurr and put a hand on his own hip, looking at the avatar.

“I reverted to Cybertronian once I came home. It just didn’t feel right on the road.” he offered Blurr a smile and then nudged him gently. “Alright, let’s get you properly debriefed, then we’ll break the news to the team and they can properly throw you a going away party before you actually leave.” Blurr laughed and gave his commander a gently shove back, his spark throbbing in his chest.

“You’ll have to give me a private going away party too.” He said, smirking.

“Obviously.”


	2. One-Hundred and Fifty Stellar Cycles Later

“Follow the light.” Ratchet moved the pen slowly across Blurr’s optics and hummed in satisfaction. Ever since the Shockwave debacle things had been… difficult. The doctors and all of Spec Ops had treated him like glass at first, keeping him isolated and monitored, but nothing could keep his team out for long. Coil had caused so much havoc in Ratchet’s clinic that she had a two-hundred year ban on her mug, but she’d gotten her point across. With her help, his team had convinced Ratchet to hand Blurr over to their care, Rotary more than happy to slot himself back into place as his Commander’s primary physician.

Now he only went to see Ratchet once every three weeks to appease Spec Ops higher ups. Honestly he was fine, the night terrors hadn’t happened in… Rotations? Cycles? He’d stopped keeping track,but still he was doing great.

When Ratchet was finished with his optics he instructed him to turn around so he could check his spine. Blurr swallowed and did as he was told, hands gripping the berth. He didn’t like being touched from behind anymore. If he actually went to the therapists for more than a few sessions at a time he’d probably have sorted that out, but that was a kettle of bubble bots he just _wasn’t_ going to tip over.

He wanted a warm cup of energon laced with a shot of high grade. Maybe a thick slice of pie from a nearby bakery. Anything to get him out from beneath the scrutinizing gaze of Ratchet, war hero and massive _grump_.

“Well, everything checks out alright.” Ratchet muttered as he let him go and picked up his datapad. “Have you been eating enough?”

“Yes.” That was the truth. Piston cooked and would whine endlessly if he didn’t at least try it.

“Recharging enough?”

“Yeah.” A lie, one Rotary constantly got on his case about.

“Getting enough exercise?” Ratchet smirked at that one. “Of course you are, why do I even ask. Go on, get out of here before you scare my patients out of their armor.” Blurr laughed and got to his feet. He was moving without saying a proper goodbye, but he just wanted air. Open, _Cybertrionian_ air. He wanted to taste the metal on his glossa and the dust in his fans, he wanted the warmth of the road, still hot beneath his peds.

When he slowed to a stop he realized he was in the middle of a park, so he walked toward the nearest tree and flopped down against the roots. Little tin leaves whistled above him like Earth windchimes and he shivered, optics closed against the world he loved. Certain things reminded him of Earth, and Earth reminded him of Shockwave, and Shockwave reminded him of… Longarm.

How long had Shockwave been Longarm? Or vise versa? And why did things he knew of from his home remind him of Earth? He’d been there only a few cycles, a blip in the span of his lifetime. Why had such a small planet effected him so much?

Maybe it wasn’t the planet, maybe it was him…

_‘Commander?’_

A voice over his open comm startled him enough that he jerked and smacked his wrist on the tree trunk. He cursed and rubbed at the sore joint, then pouted at the tree.

_‘Commander Blurr, come in, are you there? It’s Rotary, do you copy?’_

Blurr smiled and reached up to flip his comm on. “Commander Blurr, present.” He smiled at the excitement in his agents voice. “What’s wrong? Did Phillips get their hand stuck in the microwave again thinking they really could fix it this time?” They were such cute mechs underneath all their lethal force.

_‘Well yes-No! No Commander Blurr, that’s not what I’m comming about.’_ The link filled with the soft static of a heavy sigh. _‘Sir, we’ve found_ him.’

Blurr waited, but there was no further explanation. His throat tubing tightened as a dawning realization began to sink in. “You’ve found him?”

_'Yes sir, Code Ruby.'_

“Don’t go in alone, I’ll be right-” Blurr was quickly cit off.

_‘Umm... about that? We’ve already apprehended him, Sir. He’s in stasis cuffs in the SWB.’_ Rotary sounded delighted with himself. _‘Can you_ believe _it? We caught him,_ him!’ The bots delight was almost contagious, but Blurr quickly shook his head.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Rotary. Remember to keep everyone away from the glass and don’t listen to anything he says. Follow protocol! I refuse to lose any of you because of one silly mistake that could have easily been prevented.” He scrambled to stand up and gripped the tree.

_‘Understood, Commander. I’ll remind everyone once again. Are you… are you going to be able to come in? It’s okay if you don’t, we’d all understand.’_ Rotary’s line filled with static and Blurr smiled.

“I’ll be there in a few kliks, stay sharp. Blurr out.” He closed to comm line before Rotary could reply and readied to run to the base.

His feet wouldn’t move though. 

Nothing wanted to start up and panic began to sink into him as he joints locked. His sweet, lovable, well meaning team of ex-intelligence officers had caught _Shockwave_ after fifty years of secretly hunting him down. They had him, probably tranquilized, and locked in their custom made SWB, and all his dreams of revenge and justice were within his reach.

Yet Blurr was too busy having a minor melt down beside a tree in the park to properly celebrate.

Rotary, Phillips-Head, Pushrod, Piston, Coil, and Hotwire had captured one of the most _notorious_ Decepticon’s of all time and they all cried when they watched cinema with him. They had taken down one of Cyberton’s most wanted, and he still called them his little crème puffs. Sure, he’d advocated that they were grown adults to Longarm once upon a time, but honestly they were a hot mess of frag ups.

But they were so much stronger than Blurr was right now.

He settled back on the grass, drew his knees up to his helm, and let himself cry.

They’d be alright if he was a few kliks late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are going to be very short chapters.


	3. Face to Face

The SWB was twenty-six stories below Cybertron’s surface and quite possibly the most well built ‘Not actually a building Building’ to ever exist. The funding had come from both compensation for injuries while on the job, and a private lump sum forwarded with “I’m sorry I got you into this mess, much love, O.P.” The top floor, or ground floor as it were, was nothing more than a messy six bedroom house that Blurr had bought and slowly begun construction on.

His team lived mostly in pairs on the ground floor for show, calling it a 'base of operations' with the bonus of 'super cheap rent.' In the so-called basement they could descend the levels of the building into the SWB either by stairs of EM coded elevators. The last ten levels of the building were containment, Hotwire having bio-coded each door with scanners and recognition software. Every level was equipped to stop Shockwave from going further, and on the off chance he _could_ get through that, the building had a lock down feature that alerted Optimus Prime and the Vanguard of their location/situation.

Blurr stood inside the elevator and closed his optics, pulling in vent after vent to ease his fans. There was no hiding how nervous he was, but he knew he needed to pull it together if he wanted to get through this _one_ meeting. His team would happily take over for him, but he was too scared to have them in the same room as that… that _monster_ for longer than a klik.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. His team looked up and smiled excitedly at him, each of them rushing toward him the moment he stepped out of the elevator.

“Commander!” Coil shouted with her tiny arms outstretched.

“You’re here, we thought you’d wait a day or two.” Rotary muttered.

“Did Rotary tell you how I took down Shockwave?” Piston asked as she flexed her bicep.

“You did not!” Pushrod whined. “She did not, it was Hotwire’s tranq dart that took him down, Sir!” She twiddled her thumbs together and Blurr smiled.

“Really now?” He watched Piston glare at her fellow agent.

“Well _I_ was the one that tackled and cuffed him, that counts for something right?” she asked. “Oh, and before you start, yes I took a decontamination shower. Rotary checked me over in medical and I’m A-Okay.” She beamed, her bulky frame clunking against Rotary.

“Let me through will you!” Coil shouted. The mini tried to push between her friends with no success and huffed. “Hotwire! They’re hogging him again!” Blurr chuckled as Hotwire lifted Coil with one hand and moved her over the top of the group to set her on Blurr’s hip for a hug.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Phillips asked, their visor dimmed. “He’s not awake yet, we can wait until he is.” Blurr shook his head 'no' as he hugged each of his agents in turn.

“It’s alright. Do we have everything we need?” he looked around and his team nodded. He noticed their concerned looks and his spark swelled.

“Fall in.” He stated. Coil jumped off his hip and hurried to Hotwire’s bulky hands. He placed her on his shoulder and they both stood at attention. Next to Hotwire stood a scratched up Phillips-Head, and on the other side a fussy looking Rotary. Pushrod looked frustrated and scared next to him, and behind her Piston stood tall and proud. They all gave reassuring salutes and Blurr returned with his own.

He nodded at their posture and let out a slow vent. “Second in Command, Report.” He watched as Rotary stood even taller.

“Yes Commander. Subject was first spotted on an uncharted planet by an overhead flight from Agent Coil, Agent Hotwire’s cassette. Her report was sent in of the subjects location and alias, as she saw it on his credit pad as he was paying for fuel for his craft. Hotwire, Piston, and Pushrod were all on site by some grace of Primus-”

“We were seeing a trashy movie.” Piston stage whispered. Pushrod stepped on her foot.

“And Hotwire dosed a near lethal amount of tranq into the subjects hip after staging an accidental bump as he passed by. Subject was half starved, possibly delirious from how low his tank was, and I’ve got him hooked up to an energon drip. We’ve disabled his weapons, comms, and vocalizer, as per your requests.” Rotary nodded as he finished and Blurr looked passed him at the black window.

“Is he…” He pointed at the widow and Coil chirped happily.

“I quadruple chained him to the wall myself, Sir. Not even a hothead like Piston could get out of that, and trust me, she’s tried.” Coil teased. “… Would you like us to flip the lights on?” She seemed hesitant, hugging Hotwire’s shoulder spaulder.

Blurr swallowed but nodded. Hotwire stepped forward and pressed a few buttons on the console in front of them, the black wall dissolved into a one-way window.

“There he is.” Coil whispered as the lights in the cell slowly began to flicker and brighten obnoxiously. 

Shockwave sat there limp on his knees, leaning heavily toward the center of the room and chained excessively to the wall. He was too thin, almost withered compared to the last time Blurr had seen him, his optic dim and unfocused as it stared at the floor as if he were asleep. Blurr could see the light flicker occasionally though, so he knew the fragger was awake. There were flicks of paint peeling off his wrists and chests where he must have struggled or tested the bonds.

“Are the stasis on the chains still active?” he asked.

“Yes Sir,” Phillips said, “I fixed them myself this morning. Then I had Rotary double and triple check them for me.”

Pushrod tapped Blurr’s shoulder gently. “Your ice solvent, Commander.” She held out the bucket and offered an awkward smile. “Fresh out of the cooler, sopping wet, ready when you are.” Blurr took the bucket and nodded.

“Anyone want to go in with me?” he asked.

None of them replied.

“Thought so. Hotwire, open the door.” Hotwire gave a solemn nod and a door slowly lifted on the left side of the room. Blurr gripped the bucket tighter and walked into the hallway it led through, then waited at the next door after the first one shut. He felt like he counted to eternity before the door slowly rose. There was another chamber here, and Blurr waited as the door closed behind him. A green scanner floated over his body, then a third chamber opened up. Finally the last door opened, revealing the room Shockwave occupied.

His antenna twitched in shock at the new rush of air, and as he lifted his head Blurr took two steps into the room. He watched Shockwave’s optic focus and then widen, blinking several times in shock. His vocalizer clicked on and Blurr breathed in the deep smell of disinfectant and stasis charge.

Shockwave’s fingers twitched and his vocalizer clicked once more in an attempt to speak. Blurr felt the panic rise in his throat and contemplated running, but he couldn't back down now. His team was just outside, if anything happened they would save him. He was _safe_.

There was a dull thud before the sound of a voice box rebooting churned in the air. Blurr kept as still as possible as he waited, fingers gripping the bucket tighter.

“You’re still alive?” Shockwave’s voice sounded torn in half. Blurr felt every single one of his systems ping red with his anger and he took the last few steps forward before he threw the ice solvent into Shockwave’s face. He didn't know how he'd turned his vocalizer back on, but Blurr shouldn't have been surprised.

He didn’t stick around to listen to the startled cursing.

Blurr left the room and went through the decontamination shower in peace. Parts of him were trembling, and under the spray he let himself cry in shock and fear. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, gloating maybe, but not _that_. Whatever that had been, Blurr felt it harder than anything he’d ever been hit with. Stronger than his nightmares even. 

_How_ had he reset his vocalizer?

He stayed in the washracks for longer than he should have, but when he finally exited them the floor was quiet as if it were empty. He walked into the main room and flipped on the window to Shockwave’s cell. There he was, trembling and still dripping. A chunk of ice had gotten caught in his neck cables and was still attempting to melt through them. For some reason that made Blurr smirk.

He scrubbed at his face and turned the window off, then went right to the elevator. As he pressed the button for the main floor he wondered how everyone was, if they were still alright after all this. His team was just as hurt as he was about Shockwave, and he’d told them what he’d done to Longarm. Or what Blurr assumed had been done.

Blurr flinched at the thought. He was supposed to have asked Shockwave how long he’d been Longarm, or what he’d even done with him. Blurr had so many questions he’d needed to ask, but none of them had come to mind when he was faced with that mech.

The doors opened and excited laughter met his audials. He looked up in time to see Coil running between Pushrod and Piston’s feet as they both attempted to catch her. Phillips was busy tweeking what Blurr assumed was a weapon, while Rotary read through a few datapads at once.

Hotwire was sunken into the couch, taking up both cushions as he muttered at a screen across the room, occasionally lifting a foot or moving an elbow for Coil to run around. Blurr smirked and stepped into the main room, laughing as Coil darted for him and reached both her hands up.

“Oh no you don’t!” Piston reaching out to snatch the mini off the floor, but Blurr had already scooped her up.

“What did you do this time?” He asked, smiling as he walked over to sit on Hotwire’s knee.

“Nothing.” Coil said sweetly.

“She poured copper shavings into Piston and Pushrod’s iced mercury.” Rotary muttered before he set a datapad down. Across from him, Phillips snorted and almost dropped their weapon.

“Slagging tiny menace!” Piston shouted. She dove at both Blurr and Coil, but Hotwire simply lifted his foot and caught her right in the gut. “Ugh, why can’t you teach her how to _behave_!”

“We couldn’t teach _you_ to behave so why should _she_?” Blurr teased.

Coil cackled on his shoulder and Rotary fumbled with his pad as he started laughing. Pushrod bit her lip plate and Blurr watched as Piston smiled but still narrowed her eyes.

“One of these days Coil, I swear.” She muttered before climbing over Hotwire’s leg.


	4. Basic Q+A

Five Orn’s later and Blurr had summoned the strength to revisit Shockwave in his cell. This time Coil was with him, holding tight to his leg as they stared at Shockwave with distaste. No one had said anything since they’d walked in, but Blurr knew his comm lines were abuzz with worry from Hotwire’s end. Blurr knew the carrier was out of his mind with worry, he’d never been able to hide his fear when aggressive mechs got too close to his cassette.

Eventually Coil huffed and let go of Blurr to drop to the floor. She grabbed two chairs from the wall and unfolding them meticulously, then climbed up and sat with a heavy thud, her tiny hands folded over one of her knees. Blurr followed her example and crossed his arms when he finally sat down, his optics staring in at Shockwave.

“So.” Coil said, her voice tiny and angry. “You’re a big fat _jerk_.” She announced.

Shockwave scoffed.

“I betray the loyalty I instilled in you, attempted to kill your precious ‘Commander’, escaped imprisonment afterwords because you were all too busy grieving to pay attention, and all you have to throw at me is ‘You’re a big fat jerk?’” His optic narrowed. “I expected better from _you_ of all mech, Coil. Or has your miniature size finally started to catch up to your processor?”

“You _don’t_ get to talk to her like that.” Blurr raised three fingers and swung them around in the air. Coil tensed and reached out for Blurr’s other hand as a surge of volts shot through the stasis cuffs and into Shockwave’s body. Blurr waited until Shockwave stopped trembling before he lowered his hand.

Coil never let him go.

“You will be addressed when spoken to. You will answer in yes or no unless we give you express permission to specify otherwise. You will not antagonize or _attempt_ to antagonize any of us.” Blurr said, reading off the list Rotary had made for him.

Shockwave scoffed again and leaned his helm back. “Or what? My own team is going to torture me?” Blurr lifted his fingers again and Shockwave jerked hard against the restraints.

“We are _not_ your team.” Coil hissed. “We serve under Commander Blurr, not some Decepticon _trash_.” Even though her words were hot, she kept her place in her chair and wouldn’t lift her optics.

“Commander Blurr.” Shockwave muttered. “Previously Commander Longarm.”

Blurr put up his fingers again and Shockwave grunted. “Yeah, about that.” He tried not to sneer. “Where _is_ Commander Longarm? Explain that to me.” Blurr waited, watching Shockwave’s optic come back into focus.

“You’re… looking at him.” Shockwave stated.

“Liar.” Coil snapped. “I don’t believe him, zap him again.” Blurr shook his head and squeezed her hand.

“Coil’s right, elaborate.”

Shockwave huffed, sitting up straighter even though the restraints were keeping him leaning. “I _am_ Longarm. There never _was_ a bot by that designation in the academy. You’ve had a Decepticon right under your bridge plates since day _one_.”

Blurr had to physically restrain Coil from launching herself at him.

“Liar!” she shouted. “Longarm Prime was the most commendable bot on all of Cybertron! He handpicked us for his team because he believed in us when _no one else did._ ”

“ _I_ hand picked you knowing you’d all _fail_. You were bottom of the list, lowest scraps in the barrel. Each and every one of you was and _is_ expendable.” Shockwave turned his face toward the glass window. “A hot head who can’t control herself. A fumbling, clumsy mech who calls themself a mechanic. A know-it-all who backtalk’s as much as she breathes. A work-a-holic who pretends he’s a medic. The bulking dimwitted carrier whose only talent is chemistry.”

The entire time Blurr held Coil down, but then Shockwave turned his helm at the two of them.

“His little growth that he picked up out of the trash. He’s not even your real carrier.” His optic flickered to Blurr. “And you, Blurr, where do I begin? I don’t even have enough words to describe how much of a frag up you-” He was cut off by a long scream as the cuffs sparked white hot across his plating.

Blurr cursed and scooped Coil to his chest. He shouldn’t have let Shockwve keep talking, he should have shut him up sooner.

As soon as he was outside he had to yank Hotwire’s hand off the control button and smack him hard in the shoulder. Coil transformed and flew to him, silent tears down her cheeks as Hotwire scooped her against his chest. The rest of Blurr’s team refused to look him in the optic.

“What did I say?” He asked, pointing at the glass between them and Shockwave’s cell. “I told you never to listen to _anything_ he has to say.” He reached out and smacked Rotary in the arm. “You _know_ we need him alive, why didn’t you stop Hotwire from pressing that button without express command?”

Rotary shrank in on himself and Piston glared at the door.

“He can say whatever he wants about us, Blurr, but he’s _not_ allowed to talk to _you_ like that.” She grumbled.

“He’s not allowed to talk to _any_ of us like that, but that does _not_ give you the right to disobey a direct order.” Blurr stressed his words the best he could. Pushrod made a soft noise of regret.

“I’m sorry.” They whispered one by one, optics glazed over as they stared at their feet.

Blurr felt all the air in his vents escape him. Here he was getting wound up and taking his frustration out on them. This must have been one of Shockwave’s plan’s. Tear everyone apart from the inside out.

“Come here you guys, we’ll go walk this off after a hug.” He held out his arms as wide as he could and smiled when Coil giggled from beneath Hotwire’s arms. “Come on, pack it in.”


	5. Small Favors

“Agent?” The voice was far off in the distance and Blurr’s optics were too tired to open. “Agent, are you alright?” Someone must have fallen asleep at their desk again, he knew that tone of voice.

“He’s been like that for the entire shift.” Someone else whispered, concern in their voice. “Should I go get someone? Is he allowed to fall asleep here?” Blurr shifted on his desk and buried his face farther into the crook of his arm. They sure were being loud over there.

“Isn’t he the one who… you know?”

“Yeah, the _cube_.”

And didn’t _that_ drag Blurr back to the present. He sat up and blinked his optics across the room at the two mecha standing in his doorway in guilty shock. As he waited for either of them to say something, he saw them fumble over their words and twist their fingers together before they looked at the floor.

The mecha on the left mumbled a quiet “I’m so sorry, Sir,” while the other coughed.

“Umm… Spec Ops wants to see you upstairs, Sir.” The mecha on the right said. “Commander Jazz requested you in his office four groons ago. When you didn’t show up right away he… he sent us to retrieve you.” They took a step back to give him plenty of leeway into the hall. Blurr let out one long vent.

“Meet you there.” He said, trying to slow his speech for them before he bolted out of his chair and down the hallway. He was at the top floor in less than a klik and he stood outside of the Spec Ops Head Office pressing the buzzer. The door seemed to take ages to open, and when it did he was waved into the wing by a very occupied Hound.

“Yeah… there… right.” His optics never left his datapad as he keyed open Jazz’s door and then walked off. The mecha at the desk looked up in surprise when his door opened, then beamed and leaned back.

“Blurr, my main mech. You sure took your sweet time gettin’ here.” The teasing in his voice only slightly covered the worry Blurr could feel radiating off his field. “Come in, sit, talk to me. How you been?” Jazz leaned back even further and tossed his legs onto the corner of his desk.

There was an irony to his laid back stance, Blurr could feel a brief pang of sorrow for all the dead bots that would be telling Jazz off at this precise moment were they not… well, dead.

“Fine, how have you been?” He pulled up a chair and let himself flop into it. “How’s Mirage?” The glint in Jazz’s optics was worth it. “Ah, still sore?”

“If you could take the crankiest creation in all of the universe, shove a pipe up its aft, and then paint it pretty, you’d have your answer.” Jazz said as he waved an arm around the room. “Just be glad I’ve got him on recon or he’d be trying to terrorize you and your little hoard.” Jazz chuckled and folded his hands behind his head.

“You know, if you’d quit sending Mirage after us to _begin_ with, he wouldn’t continuously walk into our traps. I am- I _was_ a part of Spec Ops long before Mirage showed up. I practically invented being sneaky.” Blurr tried not to let his minor slip up weigh him down, but there was still a strange sparkle in Jazz’s visor that made him flinch.

“Easy, I’m not about to string you up.” Jazz tried for aloof friendliness, but something about his words made Blurr’s plating snap down on his protoform. “It’s just… speaking of working for Spec Ops...” Jazz trailed off and tried to smother the hopeful gleam. He was anxious, worried, but there was a small wash of hopefulness in his field. Jazz hadn’t given up on Blurr, he hadn’t resigned Blurr to his fate of ‘Co-Head of the Courier Office.’

“I told you I’m not ready to come back yet.” Blurr didn’t even try to slow himself down when Jazz opened his mouth. “And I told you my team won’t come out of retirement unless I do. And I’m not ready. You have a perfectly capable set of Spec Ops mechs that you can mold right in front of you, I’m not going to train anyone until I’m better situated.”

The look on Jazz’s face made Blurr’s plating relax. There was no fight, just calm acceptance. That was one thing Jazz was good for, he ran Spec Ops the _right_ way. The way Blurr had thought it was being run from the start by Longarm Prime.

Longarm who was never really Longarm…

“Jazz, can I ask you for a huge favor?” Blurr felt the words slip out and hoped they didn’t sound as unhinged as they felt.

“Sure, you know you can.” Jazz tossed his feet to the floor and sat up straight, professional mask in place as if an afterthought. Blurr could see the tension in his frame as he readied himself for whatever was going to come out of Blurr's mouth, and Blurr couldn’t blame him. His favors hadn’t been entirely… tame lately.

“I want access to Longarm’s private documents.” Blurr tried to say it as slow as possible, but it still came out tumbling over each word.

Jazz’s visor flickered. He leaned back in his chair, one if his hands rubbing the back of his neck. There was a decidedly guilty look on his face. A look that screamed ‘this is a bad idea’ and ‘tread carefully from here on out.’ Blurr tried to get a grip on his fans so they didn’t stir up and fill the room with how upset he was.

“I… I don’t know man, most of them were confiscated and torn apart looking for clues as to… yeah. I mean, I have my Spec Ops copies, but-”

“Those are fine.” Blurr cut in. “I just want to check something, ease my mind.” The light of Jazz’s visor narrowed. “I’m not going after him, I swear on my spark. I just heard a nasty rumor about how and why he picked my team and I want to read for myself what he wrote. What _Longarm_ wrote.” He stressed the name as much as possible. He had to make the distinction, had to differentiate between the mech he knew and the monster who killed Longarm and took his place.

No matter what Shockwave had told him, he needed to believe what he thought as truth.

Looking over Jazz, Blurr waited. The silent and stunned look on his friend seemed to last for eons, stretching out and encompassing them both. A small overheat warning popped into the corner of Blurr’s HUD, so he did his best to redirect coolant to the worse off areas.

Finally, Jazz looked down and bit his lip. “Blurr… you’re one of my best friends.” Every inch of Blurr’s armor slapped to his protoform with an audible thud. “And legally,” Jazz shrugged his shoulders and pushed his chair back, “I can’t give you Longarm’s personal or private files without written permission from the head of Tactical.” He looked down and started flipped through data pads. “So I’m going on record letting you know that I cannot and will not…” He pulled out a datapad and slid it across the table. “… give them to you. Not even the cliff-notes version. We cool man?”

Blurr let his fans roar with delight, gasping at the rush of cool air in his systems as he scooped up the pad and held it close to his chest. He recognized it well, right down to the little scuff marks on the top right where it tended to fall off the desk the most. This was Longarm's backup pad, he stored everything on this like it was a thumbdrive.

“Understood, thank you for hearing me out. I really appreciate the openness which you showed me.” Blurr stood up and tried not to sway.

“Don't do anything that's going to make me regret _not_ giving you that pad.” Jazz warned. “Now I’ve lost track of why I really called you in here. Shoo, out of my sight.” He grinned as Blurr vanished.


	6. Rotary

Despite pressing the importance of sticking together in numbers, there was only one mecha on the other side of the glass tonight. Blurr tossed the ice water onto Shockwave's frame and then sat on the chair across from him knowing he was still in control with that single mech to aid him. He crossed his legs and held up the datapad Jazz had given him two night prior. “Look what I found, I hope t brings back memories.” He tapped the scuff on the corner of the pad. “Now, I think it's time we had a conversation.” He turned the pad on and could see the way Shockwave's optic grew brighter.

He didn't rise to the bait, but Blurr figured he wouldn't.

“Can you guess what I'm looking for?” Blurr asked as he typed in the search bar. Still Shockwave remained silent. “Too late, found it. Forward Team Alpha C. Your ‘hand picked favorites,’ that's what everyone at the office called us.” Blurr began tapping through several files.

“What is your aim?” Shockwave asked. “To make me feel something remorse?”

Blurr scoffed. “ _You're_ not capable of that.” He found the subfile he'd been looking for and opened it. “How did you meet Rotary?”

Shockwave didn't reply, so Blurr continued.

“Because in here it says that Longarm took advice from his second, me at the time, and picked Rotary out of the graduating cadets because his medical knowledge would be useful in or out of the field.” He looked up to see the way Shockwave's optic had dimmed. “So tell me, how did you meet Rotary.”

There was another long, drawn out pause before Shockwave looked passed Blurr and into the mirrored wall. There was no doubt he knew who was on the other side.

“Rotary had three marks against him in cadet class, barely passed graduation by the shine of his finish, and had flunked out of medical school. Twice.” Shockwave's voice was cold and precise as he spoke. “His instructor had every intention of flunking him out of cadet training too, but somehow Rotary had pulled through. He was bottom rung, no prospects, no direction, no one would miss him. I picked him because he was expendable, and because no one else wanted him.” He tilted his head. “If you'll remember, you were the one who pointed out he had prior medical training, you advocated for him.”

Blurr sucked in a breath through his vents.

“I wrote those lines that you read me down because it played into Longarm's compassion, his need to see others strive where most assumed they'd fail.” Shockwave's helm fell to the floor. “Are we done?”

“No.” Blurr tucked the pad into his subspace. “I want you to tell me what happened on Infinity Tria.”

Shockwave scoffed that time. “Oh, you want me to recount the first mission the three of us had?”

“You were shot, it was a terrible wound.” Blurr remembered the surge of energon through his fingers as he’d held down the gaping hole. “The field medic was down, blow to the head from all the debris. You weren't going to make it.”

“I would have.” Shockwave stated.

“No, you _wouldn't_ have.” Blurr countered. “Rotary used that medical training, he saved your life. He donated his own energon to keep you on your feet until we could get you back to base. He laid cover fire, he refused to let you go.” Shockwave's optic frizzed. “I remember what you said to him when you were stable, do you?” There was another drawn out pause before Shockwave spoke in a voice that haunted Blurr's every waking hour.

“I'm so proud of you, agent. You really proved them wrong out there, welcome to the team.” Longarm's voice filtered out of Shockwave's throat and Blurr bolted for the door.


	7. Can't keep secrets

Jazz sat heavily at the cafeteria table and gave Blurr a pointed look. The rest of the mail carriers scattered and shot Blurr sympathetic looks, everyone always assumed he was in trouble. Blurr’s mouth was stuffed full, having had an appetite today, so he simply raised an optic ridge instead of trying to communicate through his food.

“Blurr, I love ya my man, but why do you have a two-thousand credit electric charge to your six room shack of a house?” Jazz skipped all pleasantries for this, an annoyed look beginning to creep onto his face. Blurr swallowed his food slowly and tried to keep his face passive.

“Piston has an online gambling problem?” Blurr shrugged, knowing Jazz didn’t believe him. 

The look he got said as much. “Blurr, I let you get away with _plenty_ of slag that I shouldn’t, you know that right?” Jazz leaned back, a sad smile on his face.

“I’m paying the bill whenever it comes in. I’ve never missed a payment, so what’s the problem?” He didn’t go back to his food. Unsurprisingly, his appetite had vanished.

Jazz narrowed his gaze and frowned. “Please don’t lie to me. I’ve never lied to you.”

Sucking in a shockingly cold breath, Blurr nodded and felt a sinking sensation dawn on him. “I… meet me at my place a megacycle after shift end, give me time to talk to them.” Blurr pushed his plate away and stood up. “I’ve got to get back to work.” He bolted off before hearing if Jazz had a reply for him. He’d fragged up big time.

When Jazz got home, Piston was waiting for him with a scowl. “Why did I get called to Spec Ops today?” She asked as she followed after Blurr’s walk. “Why does Hound think I have a _gambling_ problem? I had to sit through three hours of lectures, he told me you told Jazz that I told you I have a nonexistent problem!” She looked ready to pop an optic.

Blurr tried very hard not to grin. “It was the first thing I could think off! Jazz was on my case, _is_ on my case. He _knows_ , or he will.” He had to bite his tongue to keep from tripping over himself, the speed in his voice unrestrained. “We need to have a serious meeting.”

Piston didn’t nod, but she quickly ran out of the room and into the hall. He could hear her shouting, but Blurr ran to the couch before falling on top of it. He hid his face in his hands and waited, listening as his team stumbled in.

“What’s going on? Who do I have to hit?” Pushrod nearly shouted as her heavy steps barreled down the hallway.

“Hopefully no one.” Rotary grumbled. “Cleaning up after you takes so much effort.”

Phillips gave a familiar snort. “Didn’t Piston say something about Jazz coming over?”

“I’m not hitting Jazz. He’d kick my ass.” Pushrod said firmly.

“I’ll hit Jazz.” Hotwire said, voice low but resigned. If anyone would take one for the team, it was him.

“You will not!” Coil argued. “Hey, why are you hiding from us like that?”

Blurr opened his optics to see all of his agents staring at him over the back of the couch. Smiling, he shrugged both his shoulders as six pairs of optics narrowed at him.

“What did you do?” They asked in unison.

Blurr tried to will the couch to swallow him. “Jazz is coming over because he looked into our electric bill and I may or may not be contemplating showing him the SWB.” A beat. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

“… That… wasn’t very smart. Was it?” Hotwire asked, looking over at Rotary for direction.

“No,” Rotary shook his head, “no it _wasn’t_ very smart, but it’s done.” He stood up straighter. “Coil, Phillips, you two are on cleanup. Piston, check every floor, every lock, every vent, seal it all up. Pushrod, Hotwire, I want you two to clean the yard, drag all the chains down to the third floor.” Everyone nodded and scattered.

Rotary walked around the couch and slumped against Blurr’s legs. He offered the other mech a smile, but it didn’t reach his optics.

“I can’t keep secrets from him, Rotary. You of all mech know that.” Blurr whispered. Rotary reached back and pat Blurr’s knee.

“Yeah… I know.”


	8. Phillips-Head

Jazz hadn’t said a word when he’d been taken downstairs, and he’d remained quiet as Blurr took the pad and bucket from Rotary. Everyone filed into the elevator to go back upstairs aside from Jazz and Phillips-Head, and those two sat at the control desk.

Once inside, Blurr waited until Shockwave was once again looking at him before tossing the ice solvent over his frame. Shockwave screamed and thrashed against the chains, then jerked hard as they lit up and sent jolts into him. Once he’d stopped twitching, Blurr leaned against the wall and turned the pad on.

“How did you meet Phillips-Head?” Blurr asked, not looking up as he read through the notes. Shockwave refused to lift his helm, still trembling against the chains. “Because it says here he was recommended to you by an outside source, but how did you meet him?” Blurr looked up and caught Shockwave’s optic. “Don’t be shy.”

“You were there.” Shockwave said, voice raw hinting at rage.

“I was, but tell me anyway. Tell me what drew you to him.” Blurr said as he tucked the datapad underneath his arm.

“Average marks, average physical. Sliding through cadet training by the medium and never moving to achieve more or less. I met the agent in the cafeteria on your recommendation. There were no outward qualities that benefited them joining the team.” Shockwave stated.

“Don’t skip over the best part.” Blurr said simply.

“I asked if there was anything the agent wanted to do more than be a cadet, and they told me the truth.” Shockwave’s optic narrowed. “I want to be a mechanic, this just gets me cheaper schooling.” His voice almost perfectly mimicked Phillips. “I had them attempt to repair three things, and they failed on each of them. I had then join and made them the team mechanic.”

Blurr smirked. “Phillips kept getting better and better though didn’t they? They could strip down, clean, and repair anything you put in front of them if they were pushed. You were so _proud_. Not even you could hide that.”

“I was Longarm.” Shockwave stated.

“Then _he_ was proud. He took time off from missions to help get Phillips schematics, new tools, to encourage them in taking classes on the side of cadet training. Longarm loved them just like he loved the rest of us. You were Longarm! You _are_ Longarm, somewhere deep down I know you still feel what he does. You can’t fake everything!” Blurr watched the way Shockwave’s optic twitched.

“Create a false sense of security for the agent to buckle under pressure, raise them so high that the fall will shatter them. Basic tactics.” He turned his face to the mirror. “Don’t worry Phil,” his voice was Longarm’s again, “you’ll get it next time. You’re an amazing asset to our team, I’m so proud of you.”

Blurr lifted his fingers and left as the chains sent volts into Shockwave’s chest. He clamped down o his revulsion as Shockwave laughed through his screams of agony.

After getting through the doors, he stood under the decontamination shower and then took the elevator ith a silent Jazz. Phillips must have already left.

When they arrived they headed right for the kitchen, and Jazz finally broke the silence. “I have to tell Optimus.” He stated as Blurr sat down.

“Why bother? He already knows.” Blurr slumped with his elbows on the table. Coil flew in a chirped at him, then transformed and pushed a cup of steaming energon toward him after pouring it from the kettle. She was sitting on the table now, a sad, fake smile on her face. 

Her voice was quiet. “Phillips has locked themselves in their berthroom and won’t come out. They’ve been in there since they got back, Rotary’s trying to coax them to open he door.” He pulled her knees to her chest. Blurr leaned forward and they bumped foreheads before Jazz snatched a chair and dumped himself into it.

“How does-No, why didn’t you tell _me_ first?” Jazz demanded. “This isn’t going to make you better! What are you even getting out of this?”

A short pause, then Blurr looked over to catch Jazz’s optics through the visor. “Closure.” He said. “A sense of finality. We’ve got Optimus’ permission, and I knew that if I had told you that you’d have tried to talk me out of it. Everyone would have tried to talk me out of it.”

“No slagging scrap!” Jazz shouted, arms spread out around him. “You’ve got Shockwave in your fragging basement!”

“He owes us an explanation.” Blurr said, slamming his cup down harder than he meant to. Coil flinched and he gave her a sympathetic hum. “He’s talking, that’s more than your officers got out of him back when they _had_ him.” Jazz flinched and looked away.

“You should have kept seeing your therapist.” Jazz whispered.

“You’re probably right, but I didn’t, and now we’re here.” He shook his head. “I’ve got Shockwave down there and that’s where he’s going to _stay_. Once I get my answers, once my team get their closure, you can have him back. That, or we fill eight of the floors with concrete.” Blurr went back to sipping from his cup and closed his optics. “I need to check on Phillips.”

Jazz let out a long, tired sigh. “I… can I try?” He waited for Blurr to nod, then got up from the table.


	9. Pushrod

Several days had passed by now, and Jazz had kept quiet. Blurr was grateful, but he had been on edge because of it. He turned his attention back to his task at hand. “How did you meet Pushrod?” He was standing gains the window, no ice bucket this time, and Shockwave looked at him speculatively. “I wasn’t there when you introduced her, so this one I’m genuinely curious about. I know Longarm’s story, but not Shockwave’s.”

There was a slow shudder through Shockwave’s arms. “She’d just been kicked out of a bar.” He looked at the glass across from him, his optic narrowing. “She’d been the bouncer there, but apparently the owner had gotten tired of her attitude. She was a loose canon waiting to pop, and when she went she’d take everyone in her path with her. I knew instantly I had to have her on my team. Someone that self destructive could only ruin things with a well meaning facade.”

Blurr tapped the screen. “It says here Longarm paid for her to go to anger management classes.” He looked Shockwave in the optic. “You don’t pay for a loose canon to have the hinges tightened. You cared about her.”

“False again.” Shockwave never broke optic contact. “I never would have been able to hire her without the class. I hand selected a therapist whose turn around rate was abysmal. I led her into a comfortable haze, convinced her that the therapy was working.”

“It was and _is_.” Blurr said. “Therapy is different for everyone, this has really helped her. _You_ helped her.”

“An under sight on my part, one I won’t make again. Next time I’ll just send her off into battle and have someone shoot her.” Shockwave waited a beat, but no voltage surged. Blurr hadn’t raised his fingers. “Going easy on me?”

“No.” Blurr whispered. “More baffled by the thought that you assume you’ll get out of here.” He lifted his hand and sauntered out to the tune of Shockwave’s screams.

Once outside, Pushrod was looking at her peds and clutching her knees. Blurr opened his mouth to console her, but she shook her head no.

“I already knew, deep down I think, that he saw me as a liability. Everyone like me knows that we’re a danger to society.” She looked up, a sadness on her face. “It was nice to pretend when Longarm was here that I was normal, that I wasn’t… unhinged.”

Blurr surged forward and wrapped his arms around Pushrod’s shoulders. “You are _not_ unhinged. You’re not abnormal, or crazy, or a detriment, you’re _amazing_.” He pulled back and took her face in both of his hands. “Yes you have problems, but you are _smart_ enough to acknowledge them and to seek help for them. That doesn’t make you wrong, it makes you right. Knowing you need help and seeking it out means you’re already stronger than me.”

She scoffed and shoved gently at Blurr’s shoulder before standing up. “Now we both need a shower, no wonder I’m smarter than you.” There was still a sadness to her, but it had been filled in around the cracks.

“I sad stronger, not smarter.” He teased.

“Same difference.”


	10. Piston

“I don’t want to know how he feels, what he has to say, I don’t want this.” Piston slumped against the wall and wrapped her arms around her chest. She’d been crying on and off for well over a day now. “I don’t want to do this Ro, don’t make me go down there, please.” Beside her, Rotary rubbed at her side and hushed her wailing.

“Easy, it’s okay.” Pushrod tried to sound placating from her other side. “I mean… if I could get through it without breaking anything, you can too right?” Piston just cried harder and buried her face in her hands.

Blurr stood at the door to the elevator waiting. His crew would talk Piston into this eventually, but she was going to put up one pit of a fight until then. He honestly didn’t blame her, he’d been there when Shockwave had met her, and he _knew_ her truths were the worst to swallow.

They were also something she _needed_ to hear. Rotary had coaxed her into the elevator and offered to stay with her during the mock interview, but once the three of them had gotten to the viewing room, she’d pushed him back into the box and sat sternly in the chair with her back to him. She wasn’t crying anymore, but Blurr was pretty sure she was an itchy trigger finger away from loosing it. He waited until he knew Rotary had gone up before entering the rooms that led him into Shockwave’s cell.

“She tried to blackmail me to get on the team.” Shockwave said before Blurr had even opened his mouth. “Agent Piston forged documentation saying she’d passed cadet training and that she was a recommendation. She then used those documents to get to my office and threatened to send copies to my ‘higher ups’ that there was a severe security breech if she, a civilian, was able to get in. How easy would it have been for a Decepticon? Why not put her on the team so she could go over security measures and keep that from happening?”

Blurr watched the way Shockwave breathed, then listened to his soft hum of amusement. “I hired her on the spot.”

“She had valid points, but you also were very impressed with her. You knew she’d be good for us as a team strategist.” Blurr said, reading over Longarm’s notes.

Shockwave chuckled. “She did and does everything like a Decepticon, we both know it. She was and is my little slice of home.” Shockwave’s entire body lit up before Blurr could even lift his fingers. He left while shaking his head sadly. When he finally made it through the security doors, he had to lift Piston’s hand off the charge button.

She was still crying when he walked her to the decontamination showers.

“I didn’t get _anything_ out of him.” He scolded after they entered the viewing room again. “I have to go back in there.”

“No you don’t, you just want to.” Piston countered.

“You wrote the questions, Piston.” Blurr held up the pad. “You set the pace, you face your truth every day and you live with it. Why is it that when it comes out of Shockwave’s voicebox it’s suddenly too intolerable to bare?”

She shook her head and sat at the desk with a heavy thump. Rotary came in after a few quiet words over their comm lines and pulled up a chair with a sigh. He kept his hands on the controls this time as Blurr entered the room.

“Back again?” Shockwave’s voice was tired. “Couldn’t get enough of me the first time?”

Blurr set the pad in his subspace and walked over to check the I.V. he had Shockwave on. The line was beginning to cloud, he’d need that changed or the energon going into his system would spoil before he could get any nutrients from it.

“Longarm didn’t know about Piston’s past in the beginning.” Blurr pinched the tubing and carefully slid the needle out of Shockwave’s protoform. 

He sighed as if grateful to have the drip out. “I feigned ignorance very well, I think.” 

“You did.” Blurr began coiling the old tubing up. “But you were also the one who pried her past out of her, pretty fragging twisted if you ask me.”

“It amused me.” Shockwave watched Blurr’s every move. “Tell me, agent, how did you find out about Piston’s past.”

“That isn’t the game we’re playing.” Blurr stated as he unplugged the tubing from the wall.

Shockwave surged forward as far as the chains would let him, and it took everything in Blurr’s power not to flinch back when Shockwave hung in front of his face. “You admit that it’s a game though.” Shockwave’s voice was a rumble. “Who’s winning I wonder?”

Blurr took a step back. “Piston told us all her past after a recovery mission. She told us she was approached by the Decepticons under the guise of a neutral cadet force. She was recruited, trained, and then fled when she realized what was really going on, bringing as any mech with her as she could. We all agreed she deserved a medal for her heroics, but she was nearly fired instead. They thought she was corrupt, but your words, _Longarm’s_ words, saved her.” He put the old tubing in his subspace and pulled out a fresh line, then began unraveling it.

“Don’t leave out the best part.” Shockwave’s voice held no emotion, no twisted amusement or hatred that Blurr had expected.

“You were the one to recruit her to the Decepticon camp in the first place.” He stepped forward and plugged the drip into the wall, then waited as it filled. He found a clean spot on exposed protoform and reinserted the I.V. “Oh, and by the way.” Blurr stepped back toward the door, then held up three fingers. “I’d say, from where I’m standing, I’m winning.”

He once again left to Shockwave’s screams.


	11. Hotwire, Coil, and Blurr

Blurr sat on the floor of the cell facing Shockwave, no datapad this time, and stared. “How did you meet Hotwire and Coil?” He asked, finally breaking the silence.

At first Shockwave didn’t say anything, then he tossed his head back. “I’m tired of these games, Blurr.”

“Then answer the questions and we can stop playing.” Blurr waited him out.

“You’re impossible.” Shockwave muttered. “I was called out to the local smelter plant, there were complaints of strange noises coming from the trash warehouses. Hotwire was there, nursing Coil. He had a broken arm, Coil was dying due to premature separation and the fact she’d spent her first few waking days alone wandering a waste dump.” Shockwave sounded bored.

“You helped them.” Blurr pointed out.

“I brought them in to put them in the cells, I had to keep up a routine or I’d get called out, so I was doing my job. My superior’s stopped me from filing out charges and ‘decided’ I was helping those two. I saw no value to them.” Looking down at Blurr, Shockwave shrugged the best he could. “Coil was useless and close to death, and Hotwire was dimmer than his optic bulbs. They didn’t even register as useful canon fodder.”

Blurr tried not to clench his fists. “If they were so useless,” he paused and caught Shockwave’s optic when he tried to look away, “why did you add them to the team?” He watched the way the light flickered on Shockwave’s face, the way his antenna twitched.

“Blaster.” Was all he said. Blurr waited longer, but no explanation seemed to tumble out of him.

“What about Blaster? What did he have to do with Hotwire and Coil joining our team?” Blurr watched the way Shockwave’s antenna drooped, probably just for affect.

“His cassettes, while obnoxious, were extremely useful at reconnaissance. I weighed a value versus loss on if Coil could be trained into that same modicum of usefulness and monitored their recovery closely. In doing so, I learned that Hotwire had a hidden talent as a chemist, as he was always mixing his own ‘cure-alls’ despite the fact he had Rotary on call.” He let out and obviously faked sigh. “Knowing that, their value increased, but it was only upon learning that Coil could and often did take Avian form that I deemed them suitable for reeducation.”

Blurr stood up and marched over. “Reeducation.” He didn’t question the word, simply restated it.

Shockwave had gone silent, even the low thrum of his fans has stopped. Blurr lifted a hand and made a signal with just his forefinger and thumb. Shockwave braced for the jolt of electricity. He blinked his optic a few times when nothing happened. For a long time, nothing happened., but suddenly the tension in Blurr’s shoulders left and he stepped even closer.

“How did you meet me?” He asked, voice a whisper.

“You know how I met you. You don’t need my words when you were there.” Shockwave kept his voice quiet.

“I stayed with you from the moment I met you in training, I did _everything_ with you. We were a team from the moment you said hello. Why did you single me out?” Blurr felt his insides shiver.

“You were useful.” Blurr prayed that he’d imagined the fondness in Shockwave’s voice.

“Did you love me?” He was blunt with his question, but received no answer. Shockwave didn’t even blink. “Did _Longarm_ love me?”

Shockwave sucked in a breath through is vents. “So much that it hurt to look at you sometimes.” The voice was not Shockwave’s, but Longarm’s, and slowly his body morphed even though he was still chained tight to the wall. “I still do, even though I shouldn’t. I don’t have the capacity to love, or I shouldn’t, but when I’m like this... when you pretend long enough you can trick yourself into thinking your emotions are real.”

Blurr sucked in a shaky breath and took another step forward, his hand reaching out to touch Longarm’s cheek. Longarm’s optics closed, even the jewel on his forehelm dimmed as he leaned into the touch. “Why did you have to go and frag everything up if you loved me. You knew I loved you back, didn’t you?” Blurr asked before he leaned in and pressed the barest kiss to Longarm’s lips. He wasn’t surprised when Longarm attempted to follow him when he pulled away.

“Blurr, I warned you before Earth.” Longarm sounded desperate. “I’m so tired.” There were raw emotions in his voice, a pure, desperate break that tore into Blurr’s spark. “The longer I’m like this, the more it hurts. They cut me up for a reason, I’d excepted that, but then I took this shape and it all came flooding back. Being focused was logical, working without emotions was logical, but this… this is torture more than anything you could do to me. Seeing you, the things I’ve done to you, the things I can and will do... _Please_ Blurr.”

Blurr took several steps back and shook his head ‘no.’

“You already know I’m a dying breed. I just want to go, in death or free to work on my own projects off world. You’ll never have to see me again either way, you’ll never even have to _think_ about me.” Longarm pleaded, but the gem on his forehelm glowed and the illusion was shattered.

“Shockwave.” Blurr waited until the mechs form reverted. “I can’t let you go until you’re cleared. But I also can never stop thinking about you.” He took a single step forward. “I dream about you, like this, filling in the memories I had of Longarm. I dream about all the dates we went on, even if neither of us would openly call them dates. I dream of every kiss I could have had with you.” 

“We can still have that.” Shockwave’s voice was flat, not emotionless, but so coldly Shockwave that it sent a shiver up Blurr’s spine.

Blurr sucked in air through his vents. “I dream about you pushing me into the trash compactor every single night, and I know you wouldn’t mean any of it.” Turning on his heel, he left the room.


	12. A Quartex

Blurr hadn’t been downstairs in a full quartex unless you counted the times he went to fill up the energon tank they used to keep Shockwave sustained. He hadn’t gone passed the glass since their last encounter, and none of his team could blame him. Not that they were around that much anymore to do any blaming. They had all finally moved out of the small first floor and into their larger corporate house across the county, so Blurr was grateful for it since it meant an end to all of this. Jazz stood next to him today, a hand out that Blurr held close to his hip. Spec Ops agents were going over all the schematics Blurr had left them with.

“He hasn’t tried to break out yet.” Jazz noted.

“He’s had me to torment him, he didn’t need to go anywhere.” Blurr looked down at his feet.

“He asks about you, and if we don’t tell him he clams up for the rest of the day.” Jazz shook his head and brushed shoulders with Blurr “I think you need a vacation, get off this planet for a bit. Slag, take your crew with you. Get away from here before you go completely numb like Shockwave.” Blurr nodded.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” Too late though.

Jazz slipped away from his side but Blurr stayed there, staring at his feet as he waited for something… _anything_ to happen.

Nothing did.

Everything seemed too easy. He felt too broken, too _raw_. This wasn’t how things were meant to go, they were all meant to have closure, not this… _gnawing_ empty hole in their gut.

Or maybe that was just him.


	13. Unhealthy Relationship

Two-hundred and twenty-seven stellar cycles had passed since the day they released Shockwave from custody and exiled him from Cybertron and its moons. Blurr had taken the news of his release and given no outward reaction, simply went on living in what his friends described as ‘a heavy fog.’ There was a very obvious change, it just slowly crept up instead of springing forth all at once.

The once animated, delightfully fast talking mech was now quiet and to the point, only really emoting when the team he had boosted through the ranks came to visit him in his early, albeit forced ‘retirement.’ Many assumed he’d been too close to Shockwave and that he’d broken too many rules, so rather than be dishonorably discharged, Blurr had filed the proper paperwork with Jazz to sign back into Spec Ops and then ‘retired.’ To the public he had been a mech who had gotten too full of himself, to the private he was only trying to help, and to his friends…

Well, they all knew he was broken and on the mend.

They were just nicer about not pointing it out.

Right now he was laying face down on the beach on Vos, a large tarp umbrella shading him from the sun as mechs gathered their belongings and began to head home. Not many stayed after dark, the waters became too eerie and the silence too still, but Blurr felt a comfort in it. He let the waves lull him in and out of sleep, enjoying the silence as the last people within audio range left. There as no doubt mechs were still there, but none close enough to bother him.

The silence felt like a warm, familiar blanket.

Pedsteps through the sand caught his attention after a while, each one slow but heavy as they made their way toward him. Blurr lay still, feigning recharge even after the mech sat next to him on the towel. The silence filtered back in, and save for the strangers fans, Blurr could blissfully ignore them.

“Isn’t being alone out here dangerous?” The voice was cold, methodical, but all together familiar. Blurr swallowed down the fire in his throat and rolled over without ever opening his optics.

“Maybe I court danger.” He stated it, reaching out blindly.

A hand held his. “Why would you do something like that?”

“Because a long time ago someone hurt me in irreparable ways, and instead of trying to fix the wounds I soaked in them and made them a part of me. I live for that.” Blurr squeezed the hand in his own, felt the claws flex.

“I warned you.” The statement was flat.

“You did.” Blurr agreed. “You also said I’d never have to see or think about you ever again.”

“I can only control one of those things, how you think is entirely up to you. I had hoped for a clean break.” The mech sighed, heavy and fake.

“And seeing you?” Blurr asked. The sand beneath them shifted and Blurr grunted as a field barreled into him. Warmth seeped into his joints and his other hand came up, wrapping tight around the mechs arm. There were too many emotions to sort through.

“Just don’t open your optics.” Lips pressed against his own and Blurr brought both of his arms up to wrap around the neck of whatever shape Shockwave had taken.

When he drew back Blurr shivered and licked his lips. “I’m not letting you get away from me, how fucked up is that? You’re no good, and nothing should really come of this... Why won’t you leave me alone?” He kept his optics shut.

“Because you keep taking me back.” Shockwave stated before bending down for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Team finds out and probably shoots Shockwave in the foot, but they don't try talking Blurr out of seeing him. It's the first time they've seen him smile unprompted in years, so as much as they hate the dude... they love Blurr more. Shockwave gets like five "shovel talks" a week for like eighty years.


End file.
